The Incline
by bebebunny
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke are both members of the police station of the city of Ark. He's a tough cop and she's a cold coroner. But, when a surgeon's wife is murdered they come together to solve the crime and end up in a dangerous situation that endangers their lives. Will they discover the truth before someone else dies? Join them and the rest of the gang as they solve this crime.
1. Chapter 1

THE INCLINE

Chapter 1

A dark shadow falls onto the quiet suburban house. The wind howled, it was the only sound to be heard in the dead of the night. Young families scattered along the rolling hills laid asleep, blissfully unaware of the incoming storm about to cloud their peaceful clear skies. Inside a tall, elegant house, a desperate struggle was occurring. A young lady with the long black hair and piercing blue eyes was sitting in her comforting living room, reading a novel. She had no idea of the tragic events that soon will take place. The crackling of the fireplace brought a sense of calm and a warmth to the cold winter night. And to her own personal turmoil.

She had been sucked into her novel, reading each word with bated breath. When, her focus was shifted by a sudden snap coming from the upstairs of the classy Victorian home. The woman gasped under her breath and stepped silently to the source of the unknown sound. Her small steps creaked across the floor until she found the origin of the sound. An open window. The sheer blue curtain sucked out into the cold air. The pretty woman shivered as she pulled the window shut. She turned and her eyes meet those of a dark silhouette. The moonlight shining of their leathery mask.

"W-Who the hell a-are you!?" The woman breathed shakily, her bright blue eyes wide.

"You don't recognize me?" The silhouette chuckled. "I'm your man."

She turned to run, but, the silhouette's strong form took hold of her and clasped it's hands around her mouth muffling her screams. "What's wrong sweetheart? I'm just saying hello." The silhouette's low rumbling cringe-inducing voice whispered into her ear. She clawed against him, doing anything to escape his grasp, but, her attempts all proved fruitless. Tears streaked her pale face as her spirit broke more and more and he held her. Whispering sick, perverted things into her ear, spine-chilling things. And, soon she gave up fighting him off. He smiled through the mask and said with a wicked tune "You done? Let's have some fun, darling."

The crisp morning awoke in a friendly wake. Birds chirping, the sun peering down the streets, kids playing. It was all halted by the sound of a shrill scream. Down the sunlit road, an older woman known throughout the neighborhood was collapsed on the ground in shock. Her silvered ebony hair usually perfectly combed was now messed as her mouth shrieked at the sight before her. The dead body of a young woman was lying naked on a bed. She attempted to regain her composure as she pulled out her cell. She dialled 911 erratically. "Hello!... There's a dead body here!" Her voice still distraught with fear spoke loudly into the phone. "Oh my god..."

"Where are you, ma'am?" The operator replied in a calming tone.

"I'm at 7 Drake St. Get here quick!" The older woman said worriedly.

"We're dispatching officers your way now." The operator informed the woman. The woman steadied herself and pulled back her long black hair. And, she moved herself outside the house. Where the neighbors began to gather.

"Hey! What's happening?!" The worried parents called out, but, the woman didn't answer. All she did was sit on the porch and waited for the police to come. It wasn't long before the sound of sirens filled the air.

Bellamy Blake sighed as he sat in the van. He rubbed his temples and with a shaky breath, stepped out onto the crime scene. He was assigned lead on this case ad he was not looking forward to this. His dark eyes scanned his surrounding, memorizing every detail. The smell of the fresh clean air, the brightness of the lush grass, the look of pretension on the face of the oh so, superior citizens. 'Gotta love the suburbs.' Bellamy thought with a feeling of cynicism building up. Oh, how he hated this place. The fakeness. Sure on the brochures it looked good, but, he knew the desperation, the pompous attitude, the impression of perfection. It pissed him off. These people were born with privileges, he had to work for. And, resentment was an easy description.

Almost as soon as the tall brunette, left his car. He was flagged down by a young squirmy officer, Bellamy knew him as Jasper. Jasper had joined the Ark City's police department 4 months ago and, he was inexperienced and clumsy. But, Bellamy recognized something in him that he liked, which was his admirable enthusiasm and a good heart. A lot of people lacked that today.

"Detective Blake!" Jasper called out. Bellamy hesitantly approached the recruit.

"Officer Jordan. Good to see you. So, what's got the neighbourhood spooked now? A cat stuck in a tree?" Blake stated dryly. How he hated getting called out here. Dealing with petty crimes only brought to his attention because, the victim was surgeon general or running for congress. Or whatever haughty and pretentious reason they have.

"Not quite, sir. That lady over there..." Jasper pointed towards a shaken older woman sitting on the porch talking to an officer. "She came here this morning to check on one of the houses she's currently renting out. Instead, she found a body."

"Is she lucid?" Bellamy asked, his interest-piquing.

"I wouldn't pick at her but, yes..." Jasper informed.

"Who was the first responder?" Bellamy inquired.

"I was, sir."

"Do we know the victim's identity?" Bellamy questioned.

"Um, Ms. Cartwig... she's suspects it's the woman who was living here. But, she's never met her, she'd only dealt with the fiance." Jasper said with a sorrow-filled expression. Jasper was still new to the department and he wasn't used to crime and death. His nativity was commendable, but, most likely short-lived.

"Thanks, Jasper." Bellamy said as he began to approach the porch of the elegant home. He was on the second step when Jasper called out to him.

"Oh and Lincoln is already inside!" Bellamy nodded and continued walking to the small pretty woman, shaking on the swinging porch swing. The police officer quickly moves out of Bellamy's way and allows him to kneel down next to the kind-looking woman. She had long black hair and delicate features. Her gentle eyes peered into his and he gave her a reassuring smile.

"It's okay. Can you just tell me what happened this morning?" She smiled at his soft words.

"Yeah..." She took an unsteady breath and began to explain the events that took place. When she discovered the body. He listened patiently. Soon, she calmed and regained her composure.

"Thank you, Ms. Cartwig. Would mind sticking around for awhile?" Bellamy asked her and she nodded. He smiled at her and then finally entered the house.

And, the first thing he noticed was the slight disarray the house was in. It wasn't completely destroyed, everything was just off. The paintings was moved, the various knickknacks with either bumped off their stands or have fallen over. There was evidence of a struggle. He strode up the steps into the hallway. The state upstairs was more noticeably disrupted. The books in the bookshelf were thrown across the floor. The window was thrown open. Bellamy neared the window when he saw the markings near the latch. The paint had been scratched off by the tool used to open the window.

"I guess that the point of entry." Bellamy stated as he pulled out his notepad and jotted it down. 'Possible point of entry; The upstairs window. Get Tech Geeks to check.'

"Bellamy!" Bellamy turned to the sound of the booming voice. He saw his partner, Lincoln flagging him toward the bedroom. Lincoln was a huge guy with an intimidating appearance. Which he always used to his advantage. His shaved head and piercing stare constantly worked in his favor. "The body is over here."

The young detective turned away from the window and followed his partner into the master bedroom of the large home. Once he entered the room, his eyes darted immediately to the petite young woman sitting on the bed. She was lying face-down on the mattress wearing a long nightdress.. The sheets were kicked off and in the woman's hand was a pill bottle. Her long dark tresses covered her face and her neck.

"Initially this appears to be a suicide, but, we need to call in Clarke to be sure." Lincoln says in a matter of fact tone. Bellamy lets a small groan escape his lips. "Listen I know how you feel about her. But..."

"It won't be a problem." Bellamy noted.

"Sure..." Lincoln wasn't convinced. Bellamy's eyes peered daringly at the taller man, Lincoln notices his look and continues. "It's just that whenever you and her are together, it always gets you both riled up. Which isn't your most productive state. And, I don't even know why you're always picking a fight."

"I don't like people like her." Bellamy stated while gritting his teeth.

"Whose people like her?" Lincoln questions as he squats down looking over the body with calculating eyes.

"The only reason she has her job is because, of her daddy's money and her mom's connections." Bellamy spat aggressively as he surveyed the room. "While some people actually have to work for it."

"Doesn't mean she isn't the best there is." Lincoln said as his eyes zeroed in on the small detail. Bellamy huffed as he approached the window.

"Looks like The Princess is finally here." Bellamy said as he watched Clarke walk up to the house. Her blonde hair tied up into a high ponytail and her petite figure clad in a clean white lab coat, a dark gray blouse with matching dress pants underneath. Her mother was the chief of surgery at Mount Weather, the biggest hospital that Ark City could offer. While her dad was some sort of high stakes engineer working in the government. And that definitely brought in the dough. Bellamy couldn't help being unsympathetic towards her. She represented everything he had hated. Those who got advantages because of who they're parents are. Leaches. He had to work 4 times harder than her to get to where he is and she just had to ask her mommy nicely.

In short, they aren't the best of friends. He looked out of the window and saw Ms. Cartwig approach Clarke and engage in conversation. He huffed as he turned around to go bring Clarke up to confirm COD. He didn't want to waste time on a repressed housewife when, he could be prevented deaths right now. Bellamy commented before he exits."I'm gonna go, get her. And, don't touch the body you know how she gets."

"Yeah..." Lincoln says, standing up and begins another survey of the body.

Bellamy exits the room and moves down the staircase to the front porch. Where he sees Clarke attentively listening to Ms. Cartwig.

"Hey, Clarke! We're kinda waiting for you up there."

Clarke stiffened and her previous carefree expression settled into a stern frown. "I'll be up in a minute Bellamy." She said as she turned slightly to see him. She turned back and continued talking with Ms. Cartwig.

"Oh, Clarke. Your mother is always talking about you and how independent you are." Ms. Cartwig acknowledged.

"Independent, Is that the word she uses?" Clarke gave a sardonic smile. Ms. Cartwig's expression saddens.

"You know, Clarke..." She tries to speak but, is quickly silenced by Clarke raising her arm.

"It's fine, Callie. My bad... Now, I should probably get back to work before he bites my head off." She motions towards Bellamy, who is currently steaming a few feet away. Clarke then turns away and begins to walk across the patio to the entrance. Bellamy stalks with her as well. But, Ms. Cartwig's voice rings out and they both stall and look at her.

The pretty woman stood there with an expression of dejection. And, she loudly called. "Clarke!"

"Yes?" Clarke said after a few seconds.

Ms. Cartwig hesitated after seeing the irritated expression Clarke wore on her face."Your mom would really like to have you home for the holidays."

Clarke bit her lip and nodded to her. She didn't seem to know how to respond. "Take care, Callie." Clarke said in a friendly tone with a cold meaning. Callie nodded and sat back down onto the porch swing.

The younger blonde swung on her heels and continued inside the house. Bellamy following suit.

"Trouble at home, Princess?" Bellamy said with a smug grin. He knew that 'Princess' pushed Clarke's buttons in the right way. Clarke groaned under her breath and continued to step up into the upstairs hallways and into the bedroom. He grinned in satisfaction as he followed the small blonde as her tall gray heels tapped the wooden staircase.

Once they entered the room Clarke let out a gasp. Her eyes went wide and she rushed to the body after seeing Lincoln is standing over the lifeless corpse and moving the hair out of the way with a gloved hand. Lincoln jumped back from the body as he saw the fire being lit in Clarke's icy blue eyes.

"What are you doing?!" She shrieked as she put herself in between the body and Lincoln, her eyes were of a protective mother. Bellamy let loose a soft chuckled at his partner who seemed to be in a troubled state. Lincoln held his arms up in defense.

"I was examining her neck, there is some noticeable bruising." Lincoln said to defend himself as he pointed towards to the corpse's neck. Clarke leaned down and her fiery eyes softened as she examines the now visible bruises all along her neck.

"This is... definitely odd." Lincoln moved closer to her and squatted down. Her demeanor softened and she looked at him with a reassuring smile. "Okay, Lincoln. Just please don't touch the corpses. It's kinda my job."

"Won't happen again, ma'am." Lincoln smiled back. Clarke chuckled as she snapped two immaculate white gloves onto her small delicate hands. She prodded the body before, standing up and retrieving a camera from her bag. She took a couple of pictures while Lincoln and Bellamy moved to the far corner of the room to have a quiet conversation.

"So, what's our next step?" Lincoln pondered.

"I wanna get the body back to the morgue, bring in the fiance, tell him we need identification. Even though judging by those family photos in the hallway, it looks like she's the girl." Bellamy shares.

"Then why...?"

"It's a good way to get him to the station and..." Bellamy pauses for a second and before he can finish Clarke looks up and continues it for him.

"And, he wants to gauge his reaction." Clarke looked over with a sarcastic smile. "Very manipulative, Detective Blake."

The two men look at her with a look of shock. Bellamy readjusted himself uncomfortably. Clarke gives them a low chuckle and begins to take a picture of the end table. "You two don't whisper nearly as quiet as you think." Bellamy looks to Lincoln and nods his head towards the door. They walk out the door. Clarke bellows out to them. "Goodbye, Lincoln!"

"Bye, Princess!" Bellamy calls out as they shut the door behind them.

Bellamy stepped across the lawn and was soon approached by the only other person on the police force that ticked him off more than Clarke. Wells Jaha. He was born to the chief of Police, so when he applied for his job as the station's victims advocate. Well, he beat out many candidates much more worthy. Bellamy hates it. At least Clarke was actually skilled. Wells, on the other hand, was just good enough so, Bellamy couldn't complain. Much.

This wasn't even considering his tardiness to the scene today. But, Bellamy decided that when interacting with Wells, he'd go with a less than tactful approach.

"I heard there was a witness here." Wells said as he came closer to Bellamy. Visibly stiffer.

"She's up on the porch, Jaha." Bellamy said aloofly. Wells gritted his teeth in response to Bellamy's coldness.

"What's her state?"

"Better now." Bellamy looked at him with a cold smirk. "No thanks to you."

Wells just shook his head before earnestly asking "Hey, what's your problem with me?"

Bellamy smirked devilishly as he opened his car door. "My problem? I have no problem." His smirk then turned into a challenging smile. "If I did have a problem, it would be because, you are half an hour late to a crime scene and, nothing else. I... assure you."

Bellamy then lost his faux smile and jumped back into his dark green SUV and started the engine. Wells turned away and approached the fateful house. But, not before Bellamy could shout out after him. "And, next time... Don't make me do your job for you."

Wells paused but, chose not to respond. Bellamy started to drive off but, in the corner of his eye, he saw Clarke leaving the house. But, instead of the irritation he usually feels in her presence, he felt... different. The look in her eye as she and some other officers carried the lifeless corpse out of the house. Clad in a blank white sheet. She was visibly... sad. Bellamy didn't like feeling concerned for the blonde so, he pressed his foot on the gas and drove away.

She didn't deserve nor want his pity.


	2. Chapter 2

THE INCLINE

Chapter 2

When, Clarke got back into the precinct, the buzz itched at her head. Gnawing holes through the quietness that she had happily kept. She treads quickly through the busy halls as the detectives sat in their chairs, the suspects waited fearfully in the interrogation room and the witnesses crying over their trauma's sat in the old broken down chairs. She needed the quiet and, as of right now, all she heard was noise. Clarke just hoped to reach her quiet basement with no hassle. But, the moment she spotted Wells out of the corner of her eye, she knew that the silence wasn't coming.

"Clarke!" Wells bellowed as he pushed past a distraught older woman who looked, well like a 'lady of the night'. He whispered an apology to the woman and continued to shout after the bustling Clarke. "Clarke!"

Clarke twirled towards him, her golden locks flicking sharply. Her delicate features formed a look of impatience and irritability. This look had actually become known across the force as 'The Clarke". She found it amusingly foolish. "Yes? Wells?"

Wells wore a look of resignation at her disdainful tone. "Come on, Clarke, don't be like that."

Clarke loosened up and spoke again, but, softer. "Sorry... I just don't like hanging out up here."

"Oh right!" Wells spoke upon the realization. Everyone knew that Clarke hated the floor. Her general policy was that if anyone needed her, they could go down the elevator to talk to her. "Well, you wanna walk?"

Then a ghost of a smile appeared on her face, she nodded in satisfaction. She started back on her busy pace, a contented Wells following behind. Albeit, his efforts were labored. He tried to keep Clarke's pace, but, it wasn't easy. Clarke darted through the precinct. Once, they reached the elevator. Clarke sighed happily as they entered the elevator.

"Okay, Wells... What's up?" Clarke said after a few seconds.

"I just wanted to brief you on the victim's history. Murphy went through her police record and her social media." Wells said, clutching a file in his hands.

"Oh... Good." Clarke responded as the tall elevator doors opened to the bottom floor of the department. This entire floor was dedicated to housing the corpses and those who examine them. Clarke was one of the eight morticians in Ark City. And, the only who specialized in homicidal crime. Murder was her business. Her tall companion shadowed her as she calmly stepped through the calm halls.

"So, first of all, our victim's name is Trina Babcock. She's the only daughter of Grayson Babcock. A highly decorated vet. He fought in Vietnam. She lost her mother about, 2 years ago to a..." Wells scanned the pages as he spouted the facts out. "Car crash. Um, she just got engaged to Pascal Martin, a surgeon at Mount Weather Memorial about 4 months ago. There are no police reports or medical files suggesting physical abuse."

"Um, Murphy just started looking through her social profiles, begrudgingly I might add," Wells stated as they reached their destination. Clarke's morgue. Clarke entered the room and started to examine the body. Wells slumped against the doorway. Clarke gave a quiet chuckle.

"Well, if he didn't want to be put on desk duty, he shouldn't be such an ass all the time." Wells smiled.

"Easy for you to say, you don't have to listen to him all day. But, anyway, it seems that Trina had two close friends, Harper Reist, and Bree Smith. Harper is an intern at Mount Weather she introduced Trina and Pascal. Bree is an office worker. Trina used to work at the same company as hers, Dropship International but, Trina quit when she and Pascal got engaged."

Clarke looked down at the young woman at her table. Pulling the white cloth from over her face. The pretty 20 something years old looked youthful and kind. "Trophy wife, huh?" Clarke commented as she looked through the corpse's dark tresses. Her bright blue eyes scrutinized the woman face, searching for the slightest imperfection or a clue. Clarke let out a remorseful sigh "She had her entire life ahead of her."

"Yeah.." Wells looks at her sympathetically before clearing his throat. "That's all Murphy got."

Clarke looked up to him and spoke in a soft voice. "Okay thanks, Wells."

"You're welcome."

"Now, if you don't mind..." She nodded towards the door. "I have to disprove suicide before, Bellamy gets back from dinner with his sister."

"You have an interest in Bellamy's dinner plans all the sudden?"

"Nope, he did, however, make it clear that I was on a time limit before her fiance gets here. He said something about getting an idea of COD before he gets here." Clarke voiced in a huff.

"He's giving you trouble again?"

"Of course, he is, that's just how he is."

"He gave me some shit at the scene," Wells spoke in a harsher tone than was expected from him.

"For what?"

"I was late," Wells said shamefully.

"Then, you deserved it," Clarke said, her disapproval clearly heard.

"Like you're better. I heard about Callie." Wells spoke defensively. Clarke peered up at him with cold eyes.

"Wells, I have work to do." Wells appeared like a deer and headlights. He nodded, knowing very well, he had crossed one of Clarke's lines. He spun around and left the blonde alone in the stainless steel room.

Clarke groaned as he left. She would apologize later. He was right, she couldn't judge. This morning she had let her personal life interfere with her work. Callie Cartwig, her mother's best friend had taken her by surprise. Clarke shouldn't have taken the minute to talk to her, and she had been petty with her. Clarke and her mother's problems were one of the reasons she loved her work so much. She never had to think about it, here in her cold, quiet, expressionless space.

The tiny blonde decided to think about it later as she pulled the rest of the sheet off of Trina's body and got to work. Trina deserved all of her attention, Trina deserved the truth to be found.

"Bellamy!" A young brunette woman shouted out across the crowded diner as Bellamy finally arrives. She stood up and waved her arms around begging for his attention. Well, she got it and the attention of all the other customers in the old diner. Bellamy smiled nervously as he approached the table. The young woman opened her arms wide open and squeezed him into a big hug.

"Hey, sis!" Bellamy grinned. They sat down and the eyes of the onlookers moved away.

"Oh, man, Bell. It feels like it's been centuries!" Her beautiful smile shone bright, even amongst the bright 60's themed dinner with its neon yellows and pastel blues. She had just come back from a 6-month undercover mission for the FBI. His sister chose a flashier career than him. She goes on long treks in every state, there is, getting confessions, collecting information and putting the bad guys in jail.

"You always say that."

"That's only because it's true. Every. Single. Time." She giggled happily. A pretty waitress came to the table and quickly took their orders. She seemed too busy to chat and Bellamy was glad. His small talk wasn't the best. She came back with his drink, but, left in time for Octavia's first of many inane questions. "So, Bell... You have any women in your life?"

Bellamy almost spits out his drink at the unexpected question. He recoiled and gave a quizzical stare at his little sister. His eyes scanned over his sister. Her dark ashy brown hair pulled up into a neat half-up-half-down and her face was illuminated with a natural glow. Her greenish hazel eyes brightened mischievously. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Come on, Bell!" Octavia rolled her eyes. "How long has it been... Six, Seven months? I need an update. Are you still doing that Mechanic over at Zero-G?"

"Raven? No..." Bellamy sighed heavily. "Some guy apparently moved here and she ended things. Said she wanted to get serious or something like that."

"Good... She was too cool to be your bang buddy." Octavia said as she sipped at her hot tea.

"Well, what about you Miss Third Degree? Anything you wanna tell me?" He smirked knowingly.

"Um... no?" Octavia said in her most convincing voice, but Bellamy knew what he was talking about and the fear in her eyes proved him right. He was referring to the latest gossip going around that centered on his rebellious little sister. Apparently she had met someone on her last mission. At least, that was the word around the station.

"O..." Bellamy started. "We both know what I'm talking about, O. I promise I won't freak out."

He watched as she took a deep breath and faced him with a renewed look of bravery. He smiled inwardly at himself, he liked that he put the fear in her. "Ur... His name is Atom and he's really sweet. He works at City Hall! He's an assistant to one of those big shot politicians. I met him when I was undercover as um, about a year ago. Do you remember that?" Bellamy nodded as the waitress returned and placed his turkey sandwich on the table. "Right, anyway... He and I went out on a few dates and but, we only really started getting serious bout a month ago. I um, really like him."

"Okay." Bellamy said as he bit into his sandwich sloppily, licking the gravy off his fingers. His response didn't seem to satisfy Octavia however.

"Okay?" She said in disbelief. "Okay?!"

Bellamy gazed up at his sister. "What?"

"My brother, Bellamy Blake. The same man who actually locked me inside my bedroom every weekend when I was 14 because, I had a boyfriend. The same man who called the police when I didn't respond to your texts after an hour at my friend's place."

"I think you're exaggerating." Bellamy said with a small smile. Octavia gasped exasperatingly.

"I certainly am not." Her eyes went wide at the idea and whispered harshly "You used to read my diary!"

"I was worried."

"And, you're not now?"

"I'm going to meet him, of course." Bellamy smiled.

"What?"

"And, you're not going to see him until we meet." Bellamy put down his sandwich and smiled wickedly at her

"Excuse me?" Octavia joked.

"You heard me."

"Bell... this isn't high school anymore. You can't ground me when I try and see him." Octavia giggled as she pierced her caesar salad with the silver fork.

"Nope, but if you see him. I'll make you pay." He peeked at her with a large grin. Octavia chuckled.

"Yeah, I'm sure you will." She looked him in the eye and very coyly took a giant bite out of his sandwich, effectively covering her youthful face in the brown sauce. Bellamy laughs at his sister's gravy smeared cheeks. "What is something on my face?"

"Nope, nothing at all." Bellamy suddenly stopped laughing and looked at her. "But, seriously. Don't see him, I will scare the shit out of him."

"Okay, Okay! I won't, Bell. I promise." She smiled, but, while she sounded sincere, Bellamy knew he'd have to check it and he knew just the person to ask. But, only after a probably awful experience with the young blonde mortician and a man whose fiance just died. However, Bellamy was going to enjoy the playful conversation and a nice lunch with his favorite person in the world. His sister.

Clarke stood all alone in her room, a peanut butter cookie in one hand and in the other her official declaration of Trina's cause of death. Hopefully, Bellamy would be happy with the results, he wanted a high-profile case... he got one. For some reason, Trina had been the victim of a horrible crime, Clarke's finding proved that Trina had been suffocated, perhaps by a ligature such as a man's tie. Shudders ran through the blue-eyed girl as she thought of the fear Trina must have felt.

Eyes wide open, watching as her attacker stole the air out of her lungs. The last thing she'd ever see was his face, struggling for her life and then realizing that no matter how hard she tried... this was the end. Sometimes our lives don't reach our expectations, Clarke understood perfectly what she felt... as a mortician she had a lot of time to think about death. Trina wanted so much more than what she had, however, all she got was a painful death and a whole bunch of forgotten dreams.

Jaw clenched tightly, Clarke sat down in the silver stool at her dusty old desk. Coughing as the dead skin cells hurled themselves at her, this was to be expected granted it was probably older than she was. Nimble fingers picked through the report, she needed to be sure because, one mistake could be used as fuel to the fire from any opposition. Still, she found none, her report was completely accurate, no salt to rub into any wounds.

The sound of Bellamy entering the room took Clarke from her dreamy state of morality and oversights. Doors banged open as the tall brunette's presence was heard. His entrances almost as loud and obnoxious as Clarke viewed his demeanor in general. Piercing blue eyes peered into him as he took his stance near Trina. Clarke rigidly stood up and dragged her feet to meet him at the stainless steel table despite, all her emotion screaming not to. Not listening to them was easy for Clarke, oh no, Clarke was a professional.

"I hope you have good news for me, Princess." The files were suddenly torn from her grasp as the infuriating man teased.

"Depends on your definition of good news..." Clarke's blue eyes almost seemed to glow with an orange fire, she snatched the papers out of his hands. Clearing her throat as she started relaying the unfortunate ending to a beautiful young woman. One who had her entire life ahead of her. Looking down at the gruesome details she, swallowed her fear and divulged the truth to Bellamy. "She was suffocated by a ligature like a piece of cloth or a belt. Then her killer... tried to shove the pills down her throat, in an attempt to make it look like a suicide."

Large intense eyes peered up at the smoldering men. He didn't seem to react, he just kept looking down at the body with confusion setting in those deep brown eyes. Their sights finally landed on each other. Combing over his features for the first time... How could Clarke not notice the way his eyes could go from pointed and sinister to the openness she saw now? How did she never notice the way his lips were shaped? How did she not...?

Clarke was the first to pull away from the mindless eye-contact, she escaped his vice-like grip on her mind and returned her eyes back to the clipboard in her arms. He was Bellamy, he was an asshole. No matter how bewitching his eyes were, that would never change. Clarke was smarter than to think those things about someone like him. "Um... I still don't know what ligature the killer used and I sent all samples I found to Collins and Green down in forensics. Other than that I've got a few scratches and bruises."

Clarke then dared to look up at the man, he was focused on Trina... he nodded. "Good work, Clarke." He looked up at her for a split-second with a sincere look that brought a small smile to her lips.

"I didn't do it for you, I did it for her." Clarke eyed the young woman tenderly "She deserved better than this..." Clarke soon shook herself and regained her composure by stepping away from the slab and put her clipboard back down on her desk. "When is the fiance getting here?"

"Soon, I asked him to come after lunch so, I could-"

"Pounce on him with your inane prodding." Clarke interrupted once again, disturbing the strange atmosphere that had filled the room. Harshness filled her voice, she didn't care for the methods he was employing.

"Hey, it's called questioning." Bellamy defended his hard exterior returning to his face at her accusation.

Clarke scoffed and came back at him with a retort. "Really, I think it's actually called Insensitive to the man who just lost his fiance."

Bellamy scowled at the blonde but, she could care less. Clarke didn't agree with this, it might be smart but, it isn't right. Clarke and Bellamy were too different to ever agree on anything and that moment they just shared was nothing more than her imagination.

"Listen here, princess. Maybe it is that whole 'insensitive to him' shit. But, it could also be 'helping me put away the man who just stuffed pills down his fiance's throat'. So, don't judge for trying to find out the truth here."

Clarke winced at his tone and saw his point of view. He didn't scare her, she knew that the husband was a suspect but... had Bellamy never heard of innocent till guilty. "Bellamy, as far as you know, he hasn't done anything!"

"Do you think I'm going to scream murderer into his face? Clarke, I'm a little more professional than that." Bellamy responded with his voice eager with frustration.

"Are you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I heard about you and Wells at the scene."

"What about it?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Bellamy..." Clarke paused during their aggressive banter. "For some reason, you've always had this grudge against Wells and me since Day one."

Bellamy huffed and looked down with the vexation wearing down his features. "See that the problem with you people?" He speaks under his breath.

"What people?"

"The privileged..." The look of hatred shone in his eyes as he spoke. "The people who get everything they want off of their connections or their money. The take everything they want and only leave scraps for everyone else. The people like me."

Clarke's eyes went wide, "You're like that because of our parents?! That's your reason?"

"No, Clarke, I just don't like those whiny rich kids that get everything on a silver platter without working a day in their lives for it. You are banking on your mother's connections you get through life and I pity that. Because, it is pathetic." Bellamy rambled on.

"Get out."

"What?"

"Leave now, I have work to do." Clarke spoke to him with venom on her eyes and with that he left. She shook in anger. How dare he treat her that way, and for such a stupid reason. Their moment was lost, that sensitive gaze that glanced across Trina was just her imagination. No matter, how hard she had tried the only thing entering her mind was... Why did Bellamy care so much for this girl? Rather, why would he? Clake cared because she saw herself in the woman. Chained down, living a life she didn't care about. But, that was Clarke. Clarke started to wonder as she looked at the pretty brunette lying dead on the table. Who did Bellamy see?


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry bout the long wait but, here is the new chapter! It's a little shorter but, I still hope you enjoy! 333**

THE INCLINE

Chapter 3

Monty Green was a genius, and everyone knew it. All his friends and colleagues saw it. He came from a modest background, the kid of immigrants who owned the local pharmacy in some run down town in Ohio. Somehow, a seemingly normal but shy kid ended up at the top of every class he'd ever been in. So, to say he had his pick of jobs is an understatement. Ark City was a high bidder for his talents but, in the end, the biggest reason Monty Green picked to work with them was due to warm welcome he received. Many days pass but, he still remembers the first time he arrived at the busy station.

He knew from the minute he stepped in they were told to kiss his ass, it was the same for each station he checked out. But, something was special about this place, it was real. Clarke told him of the harshness, the feeling all of them receive when they find someone dead. The way they connect to them... she told him of the heartbreak they get when they don't get their man. He didn't understand why she said it. Why would he want a job at a place where they feel so awful? But, soon it was explained to him by his now-best-friend and roommate Jasper Jordan.

That night as he left the station he was confronted by the happy go lucky rookie and forced into a bar to celebrate a case closed (Jasper's first solve apparently). As Monty sat at the bar, feeling a little looser than usual and opened up about what the blond had told him.

"So?" Jasper had responded.

"What's the point of working here with that grim prognosis?" Monty tried to explain further but, he was hushed my a Jasper still shoveling whatever gruel they had at the dive bar Jasper brought him to, into his mouth.

"Listen here Mr. Green... Working this job is hard and I'm not going to lie, it can suck but, the people here are good people and the feeling Clarke's talking about. Feeling something for the victims isn't a specific thing for here. It's human nature and it'll be at every single job, you look at." He paused his mumbling and wiped his mouth with an already dirty napkin. "So, you can either work here with people who will understand and help you or... you can pick some other place. But, trust me bud, you aren't going to escape feeling something, no matter where you end up."

Jasper's face fell as if he was having a battle in his own mind. Monty nodded and simply stated "Okay."

Jasper had shaken it off and went back to rambling on about a strange abstract concept that had made Monty laugh harder than he had throughout the entirety his college years. The next morning he accepted an offer working for the Ark City Police Department.

...Which it why he is here today standing in the home of the latest murder in Ark staring at a semen stain on a blood-soaked mattress. While his co-worker Finn Collins stood in the hallway peering deeply into thick grooves entwined deeply into the windowsill.

Finn was a good guy as far as he could tell. Kind-hearted and good at his job, perhaps a bit rebellious but, he seemed to be putting on a front in that regard. He had one downfall apparently which was pretty blue eyed blond coroners who won't give him the time of day. Finn had been asking out Clarke consistently ever since he'd known them, and she'd consistently ignored him. Monty found it to be a constant source of entertainment.

Monty swabbed at the crude stain and collected it for analysis before approaching Finn. "Hey, did Clarke mention anything about the victim having sex before she died?"

Finn's wide open eyes peered at Monty and you could visually see the wheels turning in his head. He always wore every emotion on his face. "No... all she mentioned was the ligature thing. Why?"

"Semen stain on the bed, it looks recent."

"Gross."

"Dude, be mature." Monty rolled his eyes and Finn smiled widely.

"You're right, sorry." He chuckled as he resumed in his focused state and carefully scratched a sliver of a silver material out of the indents on the windowsill. Monty recognized it as a metal sample most likely from whatever implement was used to force the window open. "This will probably help us identify whatever this guy used to get in."

"So, you think this is the point of entry."

Finn shook his head and replied. "We've been here all day and I haven't seen anywhere else he could have gotten in. The windows downstairs are practically sealed shut and there is no picked locks or kicked in doors. So, this is our best idea here. There's a small canopy out back where he probably climbed up from. I'm going down to check for something to prove my theory but, maybe you should go back to the station and start testing those samples."

"Sounds good. I'm more of lab guy." Monty freely gave a carefree smile as he took his leave down to the station. Monty mind kept running through the possibilities as drove cautiously through the city. He always found cases like these interesting to work on, it was often emotional with the department and fairly simple but, for some reason, Monty found himself intrigued. It was a violent crime but, signs of struggle were minimal and the scene was surprisingly clean. Something was different here. And, it didn't take a genius to see it.

Bellamy stood in the hallway, fist balled at his side and his jaw clenched. The princess was so entitled, she actually thought she was superior to him. Stranded in the hallway, his anger rising he decided to relieve his tension. 'Where was that waiting room with the coffee maker?' The erratic brunette thought to himself. As he stomped down the steely deserted hallways, his anger raised. Thoughts of Clarke filled his mind, she was infuriating. How could such a tiny blonde anger him this much? First, she insults his skills as a detective and once he fights back, miss stick-up-her-ass kicks him out.

Once, he reached the cold impersonal lobby, his frustrations were lowered to a quiet fume. However, the aura of rage surrounding him was enough to ward off anyone looking for gossip or a friendly chat. Even this room nurtured the fire seething within him. This entire floor reminded him of her. Shiny, clean and blank, the place reeked of pretension and the money that it took to maintain it alone reminded him of her and her kind.

A ringing distracted him from his labored musings. Palming the cellphone in his hands, Bellamy rose it to his ear and a familiar voice spoke softly in his ears.

"Bellamy?" The voice of his friend, Miller whispered through the phone.

"Yeah," Bellamy spoke huskily to his friend, trying to conceal his angered tone. It wouldn't be any use.

"Is now not a good time?" A muffled chuckle sounded from the phone, it brought a smile to his face. There was something about his childhood friend that always brought joy to everyone he was around.

"No, it's just… work stuff, you know how it is…"

"Don't I? Have you seen the people I work with at the bar?" Miller was the owner and proprietor of a lowly dive bar in downtown, Ark City. Unity Bar was one of the nicer bars in that area, Miller was practically the only thing keeping the place afloat. It was fitting considering the rift-raft he let work there.

"Yeah, so what's up?"

"I just got an update on the man we got watching your sister." Another thing about his lovely friend Nathan Miller was that he was the most well-connected informant that the Ark PD ever had. And, Bellamy had his complete loyalty. Nathan was always willingly to help the older Blake out especially if it applied to his younger sister. Suspicions rose and fell often while living with his sister, if he needed help watching out for her, Nathan was the first person he'd call. So, when news of Octavia's new beau came into view. Cue Nathan and whatever man he trusted enough to watch her. Nathan knew that he'd die a slow painful death if anything ever happened to her.

"And?"

"He's seen a few people go in and out and none of them matched Atom's description," Nathan spoke as if he was skimming the details from something wrote down. "And, they seemed to be family and friends...'

"That's good, keep me updated." Bellamy nodded in contentment.

"Hey, dude, I know it's not my place to speak up on your deal with your sister but, I just want to tell you that… you are one of the craziest sons of bitches, I've ever dealt with." Nathan chuckled.

"Hmm, noted," Bellamy stated as he sipped on the coffee he had made whilst on the phone. "But, I'm just making sure my sister is safe."

"By putting her on 24-hour surveillance."

"It's a dangerous world out there." Nathan's chuckle almost made the man who spoke to the tall brunette seem invisible. Almost. Bellamy gave a quick goodbye and brought his attention to the man he recognized as Pascal. Trina's potential hubby, well formerly potential.

"I'm sorry but, I'm supposed to be here looking for a... Detective Blake?" Pascal spoke in a surprisingly even tone, but the redness of his eyes and blotches scattered on her skin spoke louder than his attempt at composure.

"You're speaking to him. You're Pascal Martin?" The younger man standing near Bellamy was quite handsome. With his cloudy blue eyes and short brown hair. He was of an average build but, was definitely not short. Weakly nodding before following the detective, he responded.

"Yes, sir. I'm here to see my fiance." His voice was shaky. Pascal seemed extremely distressed but, Bellamy knew better than to trust that. Bellamy nodded warily and lead the young doctor down the empty hallways. Tensions rose faster than expected, it was almost as if the blankness of the endless corridor reflected and bolstered the emotions of the two men. Pascal's fear and anxiety invaded the core of the detective. Bellamy was sure Pascal could sense the subsiding chagrin that was no doubt plaguing his heart.

Each step sounded loudly in the hall and once they approached the dreaded door. Both men positioned themselves in trepidation. For wildly different reasons, Bellamy opened the door and held it for Pascal as he watched the man apprehensively forward himself towards the body of the young woman, everyone in the room knew to be Trina.

Clarke's eyes caught Bellamy's as he entered the room. At first, they were harsh but, once she realized Pascal was there, they turned soft and sympathetic. It made Bellamy wonder if his still did the same thing. Pascal stood over the brunette's battered body and bore holes into where her bright eyes used to be, almost as if he was waiting for them to suddenly reanimate and meet his. They didn't. Cloudy eyes watered through recognition. Grasping at the truth that all his plans were forfeit, no growing old together, no holding their first child, no raising it into a person they could be proud of. Bellamy knew this look, he's seen it a million times over. When you work law enforcement, you see it a lot, you get numb to it.

"It's her?" Clarke's voice rang out in the silence.

All Pascal could mutter out was a soft "yes." Clarke nodded in resignation as she pulled the white sheet over the young girl's delicate face. Bellamy couldn't place how he felt at this moment, he watched quietly as Clarke gave Pascal her condolences. Sadness crept upon the pretty blonde's features, her eyes melting in anguish as she spoke words she knew meant nothing to the grieving surgeon. Until, she said something, Bellamy didn't expect.

"Whoever did this, will pay for it." Blue orbs stared piercingly at Pascal.

"Whoa princess." He shot her a glare, which of course she dismissed.

"Even if we don't catch him, he'll have to live out the rest of his days knowing he is a monster. Someone who'd hurt someone like your fiance." Clarke passionately stated before pulling out a card and handing it to Pascal. "This is a great support group for people who are mourning. I've used it before and it helped me a lot, when you're ready, you should call them."

Clarke's pink lips curled up into a sorrow-filled smile. Pascal nodded and turned to leave the miserable room, only to be stopped by Sir Bellamy Blake.

"Wait, Pascal..." Bellamy approached the man. "If you don't mind I'd like to talk to you downstairs."

"Um... Sure..." Pascal nodded weakly before leaving once and for all.

Bellamy took this opportunity to push Clarke's buttons. It was immature but, he'd be lying if he said didn't love it.

"So, who died?" A wicked smirk staining his face. "Your pony?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh did your mommy take away your yacht?" Clarke's anger rose once again as she began aggressively stacking papers up and sorting them at her desk. "Did daddy cut your allowance to only 10 grand a month? Now, tell me, Princess, because, I am so interested in what could make her highness need a support group?"

Clarke gathered her supplies but, stopped in her tracks as soon as he mentioned her father. Her gaze turned cold and he was shocked to see the seething blonde fearlessly stride towards him. He decided he liked seeing her angry.

"No, My dad died." Bellamy gulped. He hadn't heard... 'with all the useless shit Wells prattled on about, he couldn't mention that'. Hatred is how he felt about her and her kind, but, he of all people know how it feels to lose a parent. It doesn't matter if your rich or poor. That always stings. "Let me be clear Bellamy, you don't know me so, stop pretending to and just try to be professional."

All Bellamy feels is the air swooshing past as the blonde bolts past him. Hot coals scalding his skin as her words burned against him. How could he know that? And, once again the silence is suffocating and the walls reflect his remorse.

But, what he couldn't put his finger on was... why did he feel bad for the princess?


	4. Chapter 4

THE INCLINE

Chapter 4

Bellamy found himself down in the crowded police station shortly after his admitted blunder with Clarke. He strides across the crowded room and meets Pascal's eyes as he approaches his desk. He was glad to that Pascal had calmed since his unfortunate revelation in the coroner's room. Bellamy sat in his desk and motioned to Pascal to take a seat in the red cushioned chair on the other side. To be honest, the chair was actually the one given to Bellamy when he was placed on the job here, he didn't like the idea of being handed anything luxurious like that, so he brought a lawn chair from home. Eventually, he bought his current chair and stopped suffering from the confused looks he would receive from the other detectives.

"Alright, Pascal. We will start with the easy questions." Bellamy took his notepad into his hands and carefully pulled out a No°2 pencil that was sharpened to perfection. The widower gave a small shake of his head. "Alright, when was the last time that you saw Trina?

"Yesterday morning. I was out on a business trip all day. I was supposed to come home last night, but I stayed overnight to finish up some paperwork." Bellamy jotted it down and looked back up at him as his expression turned pained, Bellamy understood why. He was blaming himself. The 'what ifs' were invading his mind.

"Tell me about this trip."

"I went to Stanford to assist one of the attendings on a presentation he's doing at the university."

"And, the paperwork?"

"Actually, I was working on a journal I'm planning on publishing, I was using the facilities there for research," Pascal explained gruffly. Bellamy had to fight back the urge to roll his eyes. He hated those who felt the need to make up little white lies for the sake of time.

"Please, be more accurate from this point further." Bellamy peered up once again at the man before, continuing his line of questioning. " I assume the attending can vouch for you."

"Yes, I spent almost every waking hour with her, if I wasn't with her, I was at the Library." The shorter man stated boldly.

"Who were you assisting, then?"

"Doctor Abigail Griffin." Bellamy had to do a double-take. Why was he surprised? High profile case, check. Surgeon involving, check. Painfully suburban, sadly check. Of course, the elder Griffin was involved. She made dealing with Clarke look like a walk in the park. A high-powered serious woman who could intimate the angriest of prison inmates.

"Ah, we'll be sure to check up on that."

The rest of the interview progressed as they always do. Pascal and Trina were a happy couple, they didn't fight or drink. She has a supportive system and despite his job keeping him occupied, she understood completely. Apparently, they were your typical everyday couple. Well, at least that's what Pascal was telling him.

It had yet to ring true. Candidly, Bellamy doubted that anyone's life was that clean. Pascal is definitely hiding something. He has to be.

Finn and Monty had always been very effective at their jobs, and independent. However, everyone at the analysis center of the police station knew that everything must go through Clarke. As Finn gently shut the door on his beat up pick up, he let out a happy sigh. Monty eyed him knowingly.

"What?" Finn couldn't hold back his goofy grin, that now threatened to spread across his face. Monty felt his bemusement reach his eyes as he let out a chuckle.

"It's just funny, how you get so happy every time we go to check in with Clarke."

"I don't know what you're talking about..." The brunette leans down and picks up the samples from the car before starting his trek across the crack filled pavement. "You know, someone really has to redo this lot, this is a hazard."

Monty rolls his eyes at the lame attempt to change the subject. "Uh-huh, you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Do I?" Finn's shit-eating grin surprisingly widened any further. Monty stepped in front of him and held the door open as the brown-eyed rebel crossed into the police station that was strangely quiet. It was easy to tell the day was coming to a close, the lights were dimmed and the population has decreased to the point where the majority of the station's occupants were actually staff. "Listen, do I appreciate her presence? Yes, I do but, that doesn't mean anything really. I mean, in the grand scheme of things"

"Are you kidding me? You follow her around like a lost puppy." Monty pressed the down button on the elevator and their movements had halted. A silence filled the enclosed room before, Monty gives a hearty chuckle. "'Appreciate her presence', more like 'desperate to get into her pants'."

Finn feigned shock and offense before, laughing along with him. Soon, the elevator doors opened up and, to their surprise they encounter the very same blonde. Finn's face turned several shades of red.

"Speak of the devil. We were just talking about you." Monty commented as he put his arm around her shoulders and directed her towards the analysis lab. "I found something at the crime scene, you should look at."

Finn scurried out of his stupor as he follows Clarke and Monty on their friendly walk. "We." He clarified

Clarke turns to him seemingly not noticing his existence. "What?"

"We found it," Finn explained. Clarke gave him a small smile and a polite nod before turning back towards the lab door now opened for her.

"So, tell me what exactly did you two find out." Clarke questions as he sat on one of the several swirly chairs in the colorful room. The walls were a rich orange and the walls were decorated with an assortment of movie posters and gaming knick-knacks. It was kinda obvious that Jasper had helped them pick the decor. Finn places the samples on the table. Calmly, he pulled the vial out of the container and blankly told her.

"This is semen."

"That's nice..."

"Oh, I mean Monty found this on the bedspread we found the victim on, we are going to run this through the system, we were wondering if she had intercourse before, she died." Finn further explained while sending a glare towards the other lab tech that had laughed outright at his awkwardness.

"Ah... well I haven't finished the pelvic exam but, so far it doesn't look like she was raped so, that's probably the result of consensual intercourse. I'll go do a more in-depth examination." Clarke huffed as she sat out of the comfortable chair. "Are we done here?"

"Yeah, we should be," Monty responded before, Finn had the chance to put any more smooth moves on her. Clarke said her thanks before leaving the room. Monty gently put his hand on Finn's shoulder and looked him in the eyes before telling him. "And, here I thought you had game."

He tsks befoe erupting in a happy joy filled laugh. If there was one thing Monty loves about this job it's laughing at his coworkers.

Bellamy sighs as he holds his coffee in one hand and his notepad in the other. Intense orbs peered through the windshield of his silver SUV at a little average house in an average neighborhood. White-collar and blue-collar families live comfortably here in quaint homes. Raising their families and never dreaming of the horror that he brings. This is the reason why Bellamy never uses the police cars for home calls. Bellamy has never wanted to bring that kind of light to these places.

Lincoln sits next to him casually checking his cell phone, a smile spreads across his face before turning to the brooding man and asking casually. "Oh hey dude, I heard your sister's back in town."

"Yeah, she got in yesterday." Bellamy utters while deep in his thoughts before turning to meet Lincoln's eyes. "Are we ready to do this?"

Hesitantly, he nodded. The larger man was the first to exit the car followed by a very introspective Bellamy Blake. Bellamy thought about how it would feel to be the man they are visiting, to be told that your last surviving family member has been murdered. It would crush Bellamy to be told that Octavia had died while undercover. He was however pulled from his thoughts as his outdated flip phone rang a very familiar ringtone. As Evil Woman by E.L.O starts ringing through the quiet neighbor, the shaggy-haired brunette visibly steeled himself before answering his phone.

"Princess," Bellamy stated as Lincoln finally caught onto the joke with a happy smile and a playful roll of his dark brown eyes.

"Don't worry, Blake. It's just an update." Her voice reflected her reluctance to speak with him, he wished he could hold it against her. Lincoln peered for a plan of action. Putting his hand over the phone, Bellamy whispered.

"Go in, I have to take this." Lincoln nodded and skipped his way up to the home whilst Bellamy continued his conversation. "Alright shoot."

"Well, Monty and Finn were at the scene of the crime and they found a semen sample on the bedspread, they are currently analyzing it," Clarke stated in his work voice... cold and calculating...

"Alright, makes sure to let me know once they find something." Bellamy pulled out the worn notebook once again and made the note.

"Of course, Blake." Bellamy suddenly realized that this was his chance to say he's sorry. "I gotta get to work."

"Wait!" Bellamy interrupts her before she can hang up. "I owe you an apology."

The silence is deafening on the line for a second. "Clarke?"

"I'm waiting." It brings him a smile for a second, he likes it when Clarke decides to bring the snark and in this particular moment, he's the first person to acknowledge that he deserves it.

"Listen, I get it, losing a parent is something that I wouldn't wish on anybody and the shit I was going on with... well it was just me being an asshole and I'm sorry." Bellamy almost choked on the words but, they needed to be said, even he knew that. She surprised him with a good-natured chuckle.

"You definitely were being an asshole." Clarke took a shaky breath and commented. "But, thank you, the apology is accepted, now I really do have to get back to work."

"Bye Princess." Clarke let out a sigh at the nickname but, decided not to comment on it.

"Bye Bellamy."

The SUV was filled with a dead silence as Lincoln and Bellamy take in their discussion with Mr. Babcock... the victim's father. Choked out sobs ringing in their ears... they pretend that it doesn't affect them. 'I guess he's off the suspect list' Bellamy thinks, 'I doubt he's that good of an actor. Notifying the family is always the hardest part of the job. How do you tell a parent that their kid died? Bellamy let out a sigh before turning to Lincoln and asking him. "So, where are we heading next?"

"Downtown, apartment building nearby Polis," Lincoln states matter of factly.

"Bad neighborhood," Bellamy muttered before, starting the car and driving away from man's plight. Polis was not the easiest place to live. An infamous district, the streets rampant with crime and the woes of the poor souls living on the streets. The local rebellion against the current mayor began there. Triku, a group of people who started out with good goals slowly developed into a gang... At least that's what Bellamy thought.

"Yeah..." Lincoln averted his eyes. Everyone knew his background in the precinct. Lincoln grew up in Polis. He lived and breathed Triku until they started to radicalize. A policy was put in place, some form of an eye for an eye. Thus forth, Lincoln left his roots and started working for the enemy. His heart, however, will always believe in the ideals he learned as a poor kid in Polis.

"It's the friends, right?"

"Yes, Harper Reist and Bree Smith. They were close friends with Trina. They lived together until she got engaged to Pascal." Lincoln explained as he pulled out his notebook. Heavily sighing as he recounted the details of the case.

"Sounds good"

Sad smiles, polite smiles. Harper and Bree could barely muster them. The pain of losing a friend was clearly weighing on their minds. As far as Lincoln could tell, Harper was the more mature of the two, it seemed as she was the rock for a devastated Bree. He had always been good at reading people. Perhaps, it was his background or just a naturally more sensitive disposition. It was unexplainable. Bellamy stood there asking the normals questions. 'When was the last time you saw Trina?' 'Did Trina's life change significantly in the last few days?' 'Was there anyone you can think of that could have done this?'

He stood there in the run down apartment, this place is quite a difference from the high-class suburban home that Trina had been living in. Seems like Trina had been moved up in the world. Harper worked as an unpaid intern at a hospital and part-time at a dive bar down the street. Whilst the main earner Bree, was a low-income office worker. They did well for themselves considering their financial situation. He looked at the girls with his most friendly smile and asked, "So, how do you feel about Pascal?"

Harper nodded and started speaking in a clear voice, "He was her prince." Bellamy raised a brow and opened his mouth slightly before he could ask Harper answers. "She thought that she found true love, someone to take care of her."

"She talked about it all the time," Bree confirmed.

"I've only met him a handful of time but, he was a real gentleman type. I liked him." Harper smiled at the fond memory, her eyes started to cloud but, soon the tears were dismissed with a shake of her head. "Does that help you?"

"Yeah... thank you..." The softness of his voice surprising them both. Averting her gaze, Harper started looking down at her lap, trying to maintain her composure. Lincoln got an idea and decided to ask "Hey, you mind if I use the washroom?"

"No..." She shook her head. " It's the third door on the left." Lincoln nodded in appreciation before heading to the bathroom. It was normal. A tub/shower on the far side underneath a curtained window, a porcelain toilet just a little too close to the tub and a sink directly next to the toilet. The accents and mats all a light brown color that Lincoln didn't care to name. His interests were directed to the medicine cabinet behind a small mirror.

Thumbing through the containers, he found nothing of interest. Leaving the bathroom still feeling disappointed at the lack of clues, something caught his attention. While walking through the hallway a door half-closed caused him to stop in his tracks. 'This wasn't closed a minute ago.' He peered silently and saw a shaking blonde shoving prescription meds into her mouth like they were candy. Bree. It could be unrelated or... the pills found at the scene of the crime.

Lincoln quickly stepped into the bathroom, gently pressing his ear against the door. He heard Bree close the door behind her and small steps tracing the hallway. He made his move and entered the room swiftly. Quickly finding out that this was the kitchen and that there was a rack of medications. He jotted down as many of the various names before leaving the room. Sure, it was illegal but, it would speed up the investigation.

Clarke sat in the room listening to the group's leader speak to the new members about the benefits of this group. The whole 'sharing can be healing' schtick. She had heard it too many times to truly be checked in. She spent every Friday there, she had gotten the gist by now. She usually spent, this time, sizing up the newest addition to the recovery group. Clarke had seen many people come in and out through the past two years... not many stayed but, it kinda felt like having guest speakers so, she liked to see fresh meat.

She noticed him the moment he entered. 'Huh, I guess he took my advice.' Pascal was late actually holding a coffee in his hands, the look in his eyes told her that he needed it. Maybe, even something a little stronger. Politely smiling through his rudeness, he took his seat. They're eyes met and she gave a sympathetic smile. The group leader instantly turned his attention to Pascal. "I'm sorry, I wasn't told that you were coming."

Pascal hesitated before shakily telling him "I was told that I could stop by a member of the group."

This caused the leader, a man only known by Clarke as 'R' to raise his brow. "Um, who was that?" Pascal pointed to Clarke.

"I met him in my line of work and gave him the group number. I hope that was okay." Clarke responded in a clear tone.

R smiled and shook his head accepting the response before, asking Pascal to give him a letter.

"What?" Pascal's eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise.

"It's what he call each other. I'm R." R pointed to himself and then pointed at Clarke. "That is C." He took his time with pointing each reoccurring member and telling Pascal their names. "So, what's your letter?"

"Um, I'll be T," Pascal responded with a hard swallow. R took the other new recruits letters and then proceed with his usual schedule. He went around the circle asking each person how their week was. They shared their triumphs... everyone clapped... they shared their struggles... everyone listened and offered their support in the form of comforting words. Clarke found it cathartic to be with people that felt like she did and were missing somebody like she missed her dad.

R soon turned his attention to Clarke and asked his question. "How was your week?"

"For the most part it was good... but, today was hard."

"How so."

"A coworker of mine picked a fight with me. I mentioned I was going to the therapy tonight and he started to taunt me and he made a comment about my Dad." Clarke tried to strip the venom out of her voice, something told her that R picked up on it anyway.

"How did that make you feel?"

"Angry... mostly..." Clarke paused and thought. "Then after I was angry I got sad. Then I got angry at myself for letting myself sad. It kinda turned into a cycle of hurt until..."

"Until?" R's interest had peaked.

"Until, my coworker apologized then, it felt good to forgive him." Clarke felt a goofy smile spread across her face.

"That's really good, C. Forgiveness can be so useful in this process. It's important to learn how to forgive other and how to forgive ourselves." The group all smiled a the man next to her gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. R continued his session and eventually reached Pascal and asked him "How was his week?"

He took a deep breath and looked up at the group and started "It started earlier today..."


End file.
